[: 3rd POV :]
Though, the middle statue was the one that drew every gaze more than the rest.
From its crown to its feet, a slow, steady stream of blood trickled down, flowing like a river carved into its form.
The liquid was not dried nor stagnant, but fresh, its surface gleaming wetly beneath the torchlight, as though the statue itself bled without end.
The sound of the dripping was faint but relentless, echoing through the chamber with a sickening rhythm.
*Drip*
Unlike the others, this figure was shrouded in a cloak of stone, carved to appear as though its very form resisted being revealed.
The folds of the cloak clung to the figure unnaturally, swallowing any sign of arms or legs, leaving its shape undefined, faceless, formless, yet crushing in its presence.
But its eyes…
The sockets were carved with flawless precision, and within them sat stones of deep, crimson hue gems that pulsed faintly like embers in the dark.
